


There's No Going Back to the Start (But We Can Have a New Beginning)

by Squishy_TRex



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy_TRex/pseuds/Squishy_TRex
Summary: Sam Wilson is used to dealing with his pain alone. Scott won't let him.





	There's No Going Back to the Start (But We Can Have a New Beginning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [telm_393](https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_393/gifts).



He’s falling.

Plummeting down to earth, everything around him has blurred into a mess of colors tainted slightly red by his glasses.

He’s fallen before, but never like this. Never alone. His partner in flight isn’t here this time to help him

All the alarms in his suit are going off, blaring angrily, but they aren’t helping because he’s still falling. They just provide the only noise he’s going to die with. That, and his own harsh breathing.

Every second that passes by is one he expects the end to come. But when he finally hits ground, it still blindsides him.

It’s the sounds that get him; a thud, a crunch, and a high-pitched whine, all in quick succession, with the last one a lingering reverberation in his ears.

At first he feels nothing. Then he feels everything. And it’s the second that gives him hope.

He’s still alive. It’s a miracle. He can blink, he can breathe, he can turn his head.

And as he does, he meets the dead gaze of James Rhodes, War Machine mask torn away so the world can see what the heroic Falcon did to him.

Sam Wilson jerks upright, a scream stifled behind bitten lips.

When he’s certain the scream is swallowed, he allows himself to exhale. The numbers go through his head one by one as he recounts that old breathing exercise he and Riley would use to come back down after every bad flight.

His legs come up of their own volition and Sam gladly shifts his hands from fists clenched in the bed sheets to loosely resting on his knees. Another deep breath and then he gently let his head fall forward to feel the fuzziness of his pajama pants.

It’s the third nightmare that week. They all start differently, but always end the same. This is the first time he’s been in the air though. In the others he never gets off the ground.

When he worked at the VA, Sam would encourage the veterans to talk through their nightmares. Piece together each part of them like puzzles and try to trace what fears or trauma they stemmed from. It always seemed to help, even in small ways. Although Sam knew better than anyone that the pain never really leaves; you just learn to confront it, absorb it, and move forward with it traced in you like an invisible scar.

But he doesn’t say anything about the nightmares. He knows what they mean and, maybe it’s masochistic, behavior he would always discourage in others, but he deserves this pain. After what he caused, there’s really no limit to the punishment he deserves, but if it’s going to come in the form of nightmares and memories, so be it. It’s just another burden to bear

And the last thing he wants to do is have any of his loved ones bear any more pain with or for him. Sam knows he can handle his own; you live alone long enough you learn that lesson the hard way.

The man he loves shouldn’t have to take on any additional hardships after everything Sam knows he’s been through. He still finds it fairly stunning Scott Lang was able to walk out of prison with his smile intact.

“Mmmmm, h-hey, you up?” A muzzy voice faintly calls from the other side of the bed. Sam lifts his head just enough to see the man in question stretch himself out of the blankets he burrows under every night. He’s the only man Sam’s ever known who considers 62 degrees “cold.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Just woke up

“At,” Scott grapples with the alarm clock on the bedside table and squints at its red digits. “2:33 in the morning?”

He turns his sleep-lined face to Sam and tilts his head in an instant tell that alerts Sam to being analyzed. Sam unwinds from his huddled position to give physical evidence in his façade of being fine.  Scott responds by straightening up so he can lean back against the headboard.

“Was it another nightmare?” he asks quietly.

Sam quickly schools his face into one of indifference and is about to launch into a rehearsed speech when Scott stops him in his tracks.

“Please don’t lie to me.” Scott pleads, his voice a far cry from its usual buoyant tone.

“You’ve been having them all week and I didn’t say anything at first because I thought well, he’ll share when he’s ready.” Scott’s voice hitches, but his face betrays nothing. “He knows I’m here for anything, God knows the two of us have been through enough together, he can trust me with whatever he’s going through. But,” Scott closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “It’s the third time this week, but you’ve definitely had more this month and you haven’t said anything to me.”

Sam can’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up.

Scott notices and allows himself a tiny smile. “Yeah, I know, despite my good looks, there is a pretty functioning brain somewhere up there.”

It fades back into concern though and he scoots closer, the blankets pooling around his waist, revealing the bare chest Sam has gotten used to cuddling against in his sleep. Not lately; as if his nightmares block out any instinctive desire for human contact.

Scott’s close enough that Sam can feel his body heat. He shivers and can barely stop himself from reaching out to him.

But, like he can read Sam’s mind, Scott’s the one to close the distance.

He brings one arm around to gently rest it against Sam’s back and move his hand in a calming circular gesture. His other arm is brought up so his right hand can cup Sam’s face, thumb brushing against his cheek.

Sam’s feels his last few barriers falling; Scott is the only person he knows who can crumble walls with a light touch.

As if to prove it, Scott carefully brings them closer together until their foreheads touch and there’s merely a hair’s breadth between their lips.

Scott’s eyes shine bright. “You can talk to me. Please, Sam, you don’t have to go through this alone.” The words drift from Scott quietly towards Sam and as soon as that familiar puff of air hits him, he gives in.

“It’s Rhodey.” Sam shudders out a breath. Scott pulls back, but only to lay down, bringing Sam with him.

“None of the dreams start the same, but they all have the same ending. I see Rhodey,” Sam tries to relax against Scott’s shoulder. “I see how he was the last time we were all together. I see what I did to him.”

Sam pauses, feels Scott’s arms curl around him.

“It’s my fault, what happened to Rhodey,” Sam continues. “Why he can’t walk normally anymore. Why he’ll probably never…fly again.”

There’s a reason they haven’t talked about this. Sam doesn’t want to hear the inevitable disgust in Scott’s voice or the eventual pity. He wants the two of them to live as normally as they can, despite everything.

Scott is silent for a moment. Sam tenses, waits for whatever Scott’s going to say.

“There’s always going to be things we do that we can’t really fix,” he starts. “Things we’ll regret probably for the rest of our lives. Believe me, I know more about that than I’d like. And I don’t have anything to magically erase the past or make those feelings disappear. But,” Scott turns just enough for his nose to brush against Sam’s temple. “I can be here. To remind you that I love you. That nobody in this world is perfect, not even badass Avengers. And that even if we can’t ever change the things we’ve done, we can always do better tomorrow. ”

Scott exhales quietly, the breath drifting between them.

“What happened was terrible, not going to minimize that in any way,” Scott continues. “But keeping all that pain to yourself…it’s not helping anyone, least of all you. Just…trust me, Sam, please. I know I’m a mess myself, but I know something about moving past regrets.

With that, the two descend into calm silence. Mulling over Scott’s words, Sam knows that these feelings won’t go away instantaneously. Hell, he’ll probably still have nightmares this week. But…Sam pulls away and sits up, getting a full look at the man next to him. He has someone. For the first time in a long time, he has someone who is solely there for him, who will be there and understands the weight Sam carries. It’s more than he ever expected and he realizes now that he can’t take it for granted.

“Thank you,” Sam says softly.

Scott smiles, broad and warm. It’s too beautiful to waste, so Sam leans down and tastes it for himself.

Immediately, Scott lets him in and deepens the kiss into something both passionate and languid.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees the hallway light flick on. It’s followed mere seconds later by the soft pattering of footsteps.

“We’ve got company inbound,” Sam whispers against Scott’s lips. The two of them reluctantly pulled apart and made themselves as presentable as two adult men in their pajamas could at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Daddy?” Cassie stands in the doorway to their bedroom, hands clasped behind her back

“Hey, peanut, what’s up?” Scott asks kindly.

She scuffs a bare foot against the floor.

“Mr. Snuffles had a nightmare,” she explains, holding up what was still the ugliest stuffed animal Sam has ever seen.

Scott nods in understanding. “Well, Mr. Snuffles can stay with us for the rest of the night if he wants.”

Cassie pads into the room and makes no move to let go of the…animal. She just stands next to her dad, who seems to be waiting for something else Cassie wants to say.

She squeezes the…rabbit and says, “I should probably stay with him, he doesn’t like being separated from me.”

Scott smiles. “Good idea, peanut.”

With the uncoordinated movement only children are capable of, Cassie manages to clamber onto the bed and situates herself between them.

“Goodnight Daddy.” She yawns and pulls the covers up to her chin. “Goodnight Sam.”

The grin that unfurls on Sam’s face is almost wide enough to hurt. The picturesque scene the three of them make is one that will stay in his mind for a long time to come.

Sharing one final look with the man he loves, Sam takes in Scott’s radiant smile that’s bright enough to be its own light source. The nightmares and regrets may keep coming, but he’s surrounded now by those who won’t let him be alone in dealing with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, I haven't written for these two in a while, I hope I delivered what you were hoping for!


End file.
